


Scintilla

by 10vely_Bunny



Series: SuperM Gay Rights [2]
Category: EXO (Band), NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Adventure, Alchemy, Fluff, M/M, Other, The good shit, Urban Fantasy, Worldbuilding, demons and witches, everyone is pining and everyone is whipped, magical shops, mark is a human uni student who just really needs this job, mark: i do not get paid to see this shit, rather a lot of it considering i just wanted baekyong antics lol, taeten are a casual best buddies with benefits thing btw, taeyong owns a shop for wix and creatures, ten: writing shit on the walls just to fuck with mark's brain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29844579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10vely_Bunny/pseuds/10vely_Bunny
Summary: "Golden leaves looked brown to meThe world had less colour without youShapes in the sky looked plain to my eyesThe world had less colour without youBut I know plenty of peopleWith eyes closedThey don’t see you like I doDarling… I do"As an Alchemist, Taeyong was no stranger to pushing the boundaries of nature and reality. That didn't mean he'd been prepared when a Summoning went terribly wrong and, instead of making a Bargain, he wound up with a Soul-Eater in his lap. Literally.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Lee Taeyong, Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai, Lee Taemin/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Moon Taeil/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Series: SuperM Gay Rights [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192859
Kudos: 11





	Scintilla

Taeyong opened his shop, every single day, at 10 AM on the dot and closed it at 7 PM.

Whilst most businesses on the high street opened considerably earlier and closed much earlier, Taeyong had a reason for his little schedule. He wasn't a late sleeper, rising with the sun, but he had to prep his stock supplies in the morning and his evenings were devoted to opening his small clinic service. Taeyong was a business owner… he could do what he  _ wanted _ .

"Hyung," Mark's puppy eyes were wide behind his round glasses, "Where do you want the…" He patted the large jar on the counter, over half the size of his torso and filled with bright yellow gurba roots pickled inside. "Uh… parsnips?"

Taeyong waved a careless hand towards the back shelf, not looking up from his notebook. His calculations weren't making sense. "With the other preserves, wherever you can fit it…"

It didn't really matter, seeing as his Wixen customers knew exactly what they came in for and he wasn't fussed about making a decent sale with the humans. 

Mark nodded rapidly, casting another dubious look at the jar before bracing his hands on the bottom and heaving it into his arms.

Taeyong leaned against the crooked iron railings of his circular staircase and blew out a breath. He was tired already, having been up half the night trying to figure out why his protection circlets kept burning human flesh and remixing the day's potions. Tuesday's were for Hair Tonic, which meant he could expect almost all of his regulars to drop by for a browse.

Taeyong twisted his head, elbows braced on bony knees, to catch a glimpse of his own reflection in one of the many mirrors hung from the ceiling, attached by wires and cords and totally concealing the beams above them. His red hair was starting to fade. He'd go for snow white next…  _ maybe. _

The bell above the door jingled, barely five minutes since opening and already the day had begun. Light filtered through the front windows, blocked by the teetering towers of dream crystals and dried herbs he had hung there on display. The light was warmer in the back, lit at all hours by golden lanterns on goblet lights set into, and reflecting off of, the dark red walls. What you could see of them, at least.

It was, thankfully, just Lucas.

The taller man grinned happily, irrepressible despite how early he must've been up to make the journey, and his eyes crinkled cutely.

"Morning, Hyung," He greeted, moving his foot to let the door swing shut behind him. He was dressed in blues, from his jeans to his oversized parka and the navy of his baseball cap. It might've looked like a uniform if Taeyong didn't know it made him recognisable as a 'Friendly' in the autumnal palette of the forests nearby. 

"Lucas." Taeyong smiled, unfolding his long, thin limbs and moving to clasp the proffered hand across the countertop. "All well on your end?"

Lucas nodded easily, setting the box at his hip on the countertop. "Mama found bluebells in a grotto this morning so I have some-" eavesdropping nearby, Mark fairly reeked of suspense, since he knew enough by now to know that bluebells weren't in season in the wild in November, but he didn't say anything. He didn't really have to, Taeyong could smell curiosity from a mile away "- and I bought the lamb's blood too!"

"Ahh!" Taeyong broke a smile, undeniably pleased. He'd been hoping for that to come in. "Was it -?"

"- exactly where your bones predicted?" Lucas finished, nodding happily. "My Mums like you, they wouldn't triple-cross you for anything. Oh." He rustled around for a moment before digging out a hunk of wool. "I brought you a cut of the hide too. In case you wanted it."

Taeyong crooked a brow, accepting it carefully. Lucas really didn't know anything about alchemy except what Taeyong's long-standing orders had hinted to him. Still, he was sweet. 

"Thanks, Lucas. Do you want a drink?" Taeyong reached over and patted the beer-tab built into the corner of the countertop. It looked like it belonged in a medieval bar, not an alternative medicine shop.

Lucas held up a hand, stepping back. "I've three cases of live frogs to take to Busan," He admitted, "I shouldn't stay too long. See you tomorrow, Hyung!"

Taeyong waved him off, already peering into the box. They’d sent the blooms instant, bulbs and all… brilliant. Maybe he’d go blue this time after all. "Alright, bye!"

Mark echoed his farewell, looking across from dusting the bookshelf with a feather-mop that was older than he was. Then, when the bell jingled, he twisted to look at his boss in confusion. "Er,  _ frogs _ , Hyung?"

Taeyong flapped a hand. Mark was human; he wouldn't get it. "Science fair," He lied and left Mark's imagination up to the rest.

The day passed slowly, which was unsurprising considering the number of people they had on Tuesday's. Whilst you might've written an eccentric and slightly ramshackle alternative medicine shop off as monetary suicide, Taeyong was just this side of filthy rich. He had a booming career in talismans and tonics, so much so that the shop was more for convenience than anything else. He had a lot of stuff to sell. And  _ Etsy _ had frustrated him very quickly.

Mark had been a spur of the moment thing. Taeyong was a scientist, not a shopkeeper, and he wanted someone to ring people up and make sure he wasn't robbed. So he hired someone.

Mark was a student at Seoul National University, studying music and production. He wasn't a stereotypical student, Taeyong didn't think; he never came in drunk or late and he didn't, er… smoke weed? Taeyong only knew students, human ones, from a distance admittedly. Still, Mark was nice enough and he had been honest about needing the money. Taeyong's shop was conveniently located in a prime location - which might have included a  _ tiny  _ curse and an outbreak of rabies in an alleyway nearby - and Taeyong was willing to pay above minimum wage. He wasn't, Morgana forbid, a  _ capitalist.  _

The great thing about Mark was that, as far as Taeyong could tell from keeping an eye on him, he hadn't tried to invite a priest over or reported Taeyong as some kind of loon. Not that Taeyong would let him but he didn't particularly like wiping memories. It always made him miserable and Mark was nice. He had that great sense of hands-off curiosity; when Taeyong’s potions bubbled, he wrote it off as carbonation and, on that memorable occasion that one had exploded in front of him, a weakness in the glass. 

Ten, the incarnation of evil that he was, thought Mark was hilarious.

And, speaking of Lucifer himself -

"Nothing exciting?" A lilting tone crooned from the stairs above Taeyong’s head and Taeyong craned his neck to spot a pair of gleaming eyes peering right back down at him. "No live mice?"

Taeyong’s nose crinkled, clucking his tongue as he returned his focus to the box. Lucas’s mothers had used thick clumps of moss to pad the items out for the journey and, despite the fact it was just packaging, Taeyong started fishing it out. You never knew when you might need some. 

"You buy into this cat thing too much," He tutted, "Maybe you’ll go non-verbal…"

The thought wasn't a  _ terrible _ one.

"Cats vocalise for human benefit." Ten purred, smirk audible in his tone even as he dropped from the stairs in a straight fall to crouch, utterly silent, in the centre of Taeyong's countertop. "Being around you would only make me  _ louder…" _

Mark yelped, belatedly, when he turned and saw what he thought was a black cat drop from the ceiling. "Gah!" He fumbled with the duster, nearly knocking a statue of Amun-Ra off another display table and lunging to steady it. "That  _ cat _ !"

Ten, not that Mark could hear it, cackled loudly. He slunk, limbs moving a little too fluidly for his humanesque form, to stand at Taeyong's shoulder. Half a head shorter meant that Ten’s mouth was conveniently close to Taeyong’s ear, which he leaned into and breathed pointedly. "If you want me to  _ wail -" _

Taeyong planted a hand on Ten’s face and pushed him back the full length of his arm’s reach. " _ Don't _ be crude."

Ten, unphased, shrugged in a graceful, rolling motion. He was almost naked today, which was an improvement from normal, and dressed in simple dark jeans with absolutely nothing else on. He mimicked mortal clothes by rooting through Taeyong’s own extensive wardrobe, claiming that he enjoyed the novelty - but not enough to actually be consistent. His chest was smooth and honey-gold and bare but for the ink of his ‘Guise tattooed over his heart. Barefoot and shirtless, hair silken black… he really did look like a cat brought to human form. Which he  _ wasn't, _ but certainly made for a decent explanation of his mortal disguises. 

"Shameless is as shameless does?" He tried. Taeyong eyed him shrewdly.

Mark had watched Taeyong scolding Ten - apparently one-sidedly - and, when Taeyong intentionally peered through the illusion of Ten’s effect, the Alchemist snorted when he appeared to hold the black cat by the scruff of his neck. How direct. He wondered if Ten manipulated it consciously or not; he made a mental note to ask later. 

"What did Ten do now, Hyung?"

Ten’s eyes narrowed at the quirk of Taeyong's lips. "Don’t you da -"

Taeyong planted his hand across Ten’s mouth and was pleased to note that the illusion made it look like he was disapprovingly wagging the cat mid-air. He needed to take notes - now. "He missed the litter box."

Ten’s eyes popped and then he chomped with unnaturally oversized teeth right into Taeyong’s palm.

Taeyong ripped his hand free with a yelp, pain forgotten when he noticed the blood pouring backwards into the gouges.

"Litterbox!" Ten wailed, slapping Taeyong’s shoulder. He could've torn through concrete like soft butter with his strength if he wanted to; the fact the hits barely even landed spoke volumes. "What the fuck!"

Taeyong barked a laugh, sidestepping away from Ten around the corner of the till and moving to pick up his supplies. 

"Ten is badly behaved," He declared and immediately ducked into the back room when Ten threw a book -  _ Boils and Burns: Potioneering for Beginners _ \- at his head.

Mark squawked again, no doubt adding to his theory that Ten was the reason black cats had just bad reputations, but then the door was between him and the chaos. Ten, for all he could be dramatic and mischievous, knew better than to surprise Taeyong in his lab. He’d knock a few things over and get under Mark’s feet and get over it. He stuck around here of his own violation, after all.

The backroom - the ground floor was dominated by the storefront, with a lot of stock kept in the cellars, and the final third of floor space taken over by Taeyong’s office, with his apartment above - was much brighter than the front. Taeyong, when he’d bought this place decades ago, had knocked out the back wall and put in French patio doors. The back of the property was actually a cordoned off alleyway, with a gate on each end that he owned the keys for, but he’d always liked the extra light. It wasn’t like he was at risk of burglars. The walls were bare stone back here, old and a little crumbly, and the floor was concrete. He had workbenches along three walls, with a high stool tucked sensibly out of tripping-range, and a massive pentagram seared into the ground. Appropriate but he hadn't really meant to make it a  _ permanent _ feature.

Taeyong sighed, sitting himself down on the stool and carefully pulling the bluebell plants from their mossy beds and setting about to separate the pollen stems from the head, the petals, the stems, the leaves, the roots…

It was after noon when Mark knocked gently on the door to let him know it was his lunch break so that Taeyong could come sit out front for the half-hour he was gone. Ten had, at some point, snuck two other cats - Taeyong still wasn't sure where he found them, either luring them right off other people’s balconies or if they were strays - and was lying in the middle of the floor with both felines sprawled across his naked chest.

Taeyong, since he could never stand idleness in himself, started the age-old argument before he could help himself. He pulled a glass of mead from the counter-tab and took a long draught of it, the tang of aniseed tingling his tongue. 

"Do you want to paint?" He asked.

Ten dragged a hand through the tabby’s fur, eyes shut and basking in a small shaft of sunlight as it shifted across the floor and migrated over his face. "No."

Taeyong drummed his fingers, already itching to get back to work but knowing Mark was more than due his own break. "What about singing?"

Ten could belt out a lovely tune as well as any songbird and Taeyong was sure he’d love to be some kind of street performer. 

Ten didn't even bother to reply that time, turning his head to bump noses with the curious white cat sniffing his skin. 

"You could help me with my protective rings?"

Ten ignored him.

Taeyong sighed and gave it up as a lost cause, prying open his tome on elemental theorisations and losing himself to the scrawls. 

…………………………………………………………

At four, when Taeyong had sold almost all of his daily stock of potions and Mark had fumbled when buying Taeyong two hundred grams of Singing Salmon scales when Seulgi had started whispering in Mermish to Joy, familiar faces broke the monotony.

Mark's face perked right up, eyes skittering a little nervously over Taeil as they always did to land on Johnny. "Hyung!"

Taeyong, mixing salamander with dried ringworm, glanced up in interest, "Tonic, Hyung?"

Taeil smiled at him warmly, skipping right over and looking so delighted to be back. They came every single week. 

"Do you think I could make it myself, Taeyongie?" He asked, small hands fluttering above the selection before plucking an electric blue vile from the rack. 

Taeyong squinted thoughtfully. "You could do most of it," He hedged, before glancing carefully where Johnny was slumped near the counter, holding his phone up to let Mark watch some kind of sports game with him. "But you do need an incantation, I'm afraid."

Taeil, having heard this so many times before, nodded gently. He picked up a honey blonde and held it close to his cheek. "Should I go lighter? Or," He swapped it with the blue, "Darker?"

Movement over Taeil's shoulder caught Taeyong's attention, the barest flit of his eyes catching on Johnny's panicked expression. 

"Are you," He cleared his throat, "sure you don't want to stay red? It suits you wonderfully."

Taeil was almost annoyingly beautiful, and the rose-scarlet of his hair trimmed dangerously short on the sides - where he'd happily encouraged Taeyong to ink Vision runes to lend him non-human sight - and rich against his skin. Johnny, the definition of a love-struck, indulgent boyfriend, had made a very high-pitched noise when Taeyong had helped Taeil dye it the first time. Maybe he should've opened a salon instead…

Taeil gnawed on his lip, sloshing the vials before determinedly keeping hold of the blonde. "I can always go back," He explained. 

Taeyong smiled, since that was his mentality too, and followed Taeil back towards the counter. "Anything else, Hyung? Tennie could do you a special tattoo - he likes you."

Everyone liked Taeil. It was a wonder he hadn't been secretly cursed at birth. 

Mark shot him a look before craning his neck to see Ten's cat form sleeping in the window display. Taeyong didn't even try to fabricate an excuse.

"Blonde?" Johnny finally looked up from his live match and his expression dropped almost comically. "I thought you wanted to get those fortune, er, stones, babe? The uncut crystal ones?"

"Oh!" Taeil perked right up, smiling at his boyfriend and seemingly not noticing the way Johnny essentially melted at the attention. "Hold this?" He pressed the tonic into Johnny's hand, "I'll be right back!"

Mark scurried after Taeil, to make sure he didn't start packing the gems into one bag like a pick-n-mix. That would be… exciting. Some minerals held grudges against each other. 

"I wanted to ask you," Taeyong propped an elbow on the counter beside Johnny and gazed at him thoughtfully. "Do you have any more tomes on elemental protections?"

Johnny finally tore his eyes from where he’d been using his superior height to watch the back of Taeil’s head across the shop. "Hyung reorganised those books my grandma saved when we moved in together," He shrugged, "I’m pretty sure he gave you all of them."

That was true, the couple had sold Taeyong over a dozen books since it wasn't like either of them could or would use them. Taeil didn't have the magic to use almost anything those books had to offer, as much as he might have wished to, and he was sensible enough to know that they shouldn't be kept kicking around. Johnny, who tagged along for Taeil's interest more than any of his own, had agreed with the decision.

"Johnny." Taeil called, jiggling the ‘fortune stones’ in the cup of his palm so they rattled. "Agate ones?"

Johnny nodded. "They’re your star sign, right? So that should be… good."

Mark glanced over at Johnny, looking genuinely impressed, as Taeyong sidestepped around to the till and started exchanging cash with Taeil.

"You’re pretty good at this, Hyung, which is weird but cool." Mark's eyes caught, seemingly without meaning to, on Johnny’s basketball shorts and university-brand hoodie, so at odds with Taeil’s chunky sweater and lovingly cared for Chelsea boots. Then he noticed Johnny's quirked brow. "I - I, er, mean, you don't seem… interested in these hobbies yourself?"

"Smooth," Ten chuckled from the sun-patch.

Taeyong snorted quietly but agreed.

…………………………………………………………

It took Taeyong three more months before his research gave out.

His hands had been slowly blistering from his potion’s work, cuts littering his fingers from tracing bloodlines into parchments and pelts and his floors. Mark had long since started to look worried about him, asking if Taeyong wasn't sure he deserved a night off. Or, if Ten was scratching him up so badly, maybe they could get one of those plug-in relaxer-scents for cats. As if Ten’s illusionary teeth and claws were the reasons his palms had started throbbing.

Taeyong wondered, sometimes, what would happen if he  _ did _ give Mark a straight answer for once. If he turned and explained that the Alchemy to which he’d devoted his life - literally - would continue scarring his flesh. You were forbidden from using castings to heal yourself after a ritual, after all, since the act of healing was part of the process. And Taeyong… most Alchemists had hands like his in their middling-years; but Taeyong wasn't just an  _ Alchemist _ , crafting magic for others to perfect and learn and integrate. He was an  _ inventor  _ and he wanted to learn everything, perfect his techniques and disprove theories and push further. He’d begun his training so early, tearing through his potion books years before other children his age, and he’d torn through his family’s library in its totality when even his father hadn't managed such a feat.

And then he’d  _ travelled _ .

Experimented, selling tonics and meeting so many wonderful beings along the way. Bought a shop, itching to settle somewhere and bury his head for a while without interruption.

He was one of the few alchemists in the Asian Peninsula able to draw a functioning pentagram (and not die on the spot). He’d learned from Knowing Yunho, two weeks camped in an abandoned parking lot and trying to ignore the way the High Alchemist's partner had burned the back of his skull with his gaze alone. Two weeks, from a simple question and the passionate whim of a genius, which had been like being able to catch a meteor shower on a night the whole  _ world _ had been asleep for. Rare and special and yet passing beyond the grasp of almost everyone else. It had illuminated a path he’d not even considered for himself before. 

Barely two months later, he’d drawn his first pentagram and accidentally opened a void in the Other.

He’d not been aiming to meet anyone in particular, the centre of the sweeping lines of ash and bone-meal left damningly empty. And that void called to other creatures, like poking a hole in a fishtank and expecting no water to rush outwards.

Ten, a minor Shadow Demon with a predilection to trouble, had been the fastest of the UnBound and reached through first, closing up the entrance behind him more out of callousness for his peers than helpfulness for Taeyong's mistake. They’d been cautious, then casual - when Ten didn't seem inclined to curse Taeyong to the Nether and Taeyong proved he had no intention to enslave Ten - and then, finally, their odd brand of friendship. The sex - a tradition, Ten had insisted, and Taeyong had only half-believed his bullshit - had been great, however. 

But that brought Taeyong’s tale to the present, some years after Ten had slunk his way into the mortal realm and decided that Taeyong’s store was more diverting than the fire and brimstone of the Other.

The point was that Taeyong lived for his work.  _ Literally _ . But his work was damaging him faster than even the extended lifespan of an Alchemist could protect him from. He needed to take steps if he was to continue the way he was.

He almost considered contacting a being for protection against the scarring and the burning that would soon enough start affecting the functionality of his poor hands. But -

Demons of healing were strong and notoriously… fickle. Taeyong didn't think sacrificing a human life for a bargaining tool was worth his hands, funnily enough. He  _ liked _ humans.

Still, where there was a will…

He had issues with burns, second only to the cuts of bloodletting. So, a Fire Demon would be more achievable. That and the offerings needed for the ritual were a little more palatable.

Ten wasn't bound to the mortal realm, he just thought it was more interesting than the Others, and he’d whisked himself off somewhere again.

He easily got his hands on a live chicken or two. Or three.

Taeyong hung up every muffling charm he’d painted last time it had snowed and set himself in to prepare.

Taeyong took three days to ensure that his pentagram was perfect, carved into a granite surface (which he’d ordered from a fancy kitchen-hardware store and then chiselled himself) and raised above the ground with bricks. He worded his incantation as perfectly as he could. He ensured his Compass was set right. He bought three roosters and, at 11 PM, started burning their fresh corpses in a fire in the centre of the runes.

He used witch-fire to superheat them, purple and contained, and capture the scent and smoke with an alchemist’s funnel over the flames. The bones turned to ash before the hour was up and Taeyong relaxed the heat so that the last of the roosters were rendered to nothing just as midnight struck. 

" _ I bid to Thee, Lord of Flame _ ."

The granite rippled, like a still pond disrupted by a single droplet.

" _ Mortal blood - _ "

He cut deep into each palm, ignoring the slickness of his athame handle, and pressed his hands on each side of the ashes. The stone was hot to the touch, tingling.

" _ \- Ash to Sustain -" _

The granite jolted beneath the press of his palm and Taeyong's eyes, clenched in concentration, snapped open.

And then things started going…  _ wrong _ .

Taeyong’s brows furrowed, the granite burning even hotter beneath his touch. The lines started to glow, dark red like dying coals and then hotter and  _ hotter _ until -

He flung himself backwards, ripping his hands from the seal and breaking formation, the cuts on his palms cauterised but the flesh burned pink, as the seals burst into roaring flames. Vibrant, angry orange, washing his walls golden and clawing towards the high ceiling, pouring outwards and starting to damage the wood -

The Demon was going to kill him. It was going to burn down his shop and -

Taeyong scrambled onto his knees, barely even feeling the sharp bite of pain in his palms. The fire was catching on the  _ ceiling, _ had started to pour towards his precious books.

I am a fool, Taeyong realised with a kind of detached resignation, and yanked his Compass one dial to the left.

And -

The fire snapped from existence, without even a drift of smoke, as if Taeyong had slammed a door shut on it. 

The room was silent but for the pant of Taeyong’s desperate breathing. There weren't even scorch marks.

_ What - _

And then the room was plunged into darkness, the light from his working lamps visibly dragged from their bulbs, crackling and glowing, until they were sucked into the centre of the pentagram, where Taeyong had burned the roosters and was now kneeling straight over.

A sound like the strike of a match but no illumination followed.

A breath.

A hand brushed his face in the dark.

Taeyong flung himself backwards immediately, tongue tripping over incantations of light without use. The darkness persisted.

And those hands had followed.

"Shhhh, don't be like  _ that _ ," The Unknown Demon’s voice sighed soothingly. He - every being in the Court he had been working towards had been identified as such in his texts - sounded almost careless, his voice loud in the dark and his hands were confident. "Don't lose your head, little Summoner." He crooned, cupping Taeyong’s jaw and smoothing his thumbs firmly across the arch of his cheekbones. He felt like the skull in  _ Hamlet _ . "This is your own doing."

"Who are you?" Taeyong asked before he could help himself, shutting his eyes since peering blindly made him feel even more helpless. His tongue felt too large in his mouth. "Lord," He hurriedly tagged on.

The Demon laughed, warm breath ghosting over Taeyong’s mouth, and Taeyong swallowed convulsively at the proximity. One set of fingers traced his brow bone and then down his nose whilst the other felt along Taeyong's throat. "You do not know your undoing? How exciting of you."

Taeyong swallowed again, the bob of the motion captured by the press of a foreign palm, and was proud when his voice shook much less this time. "I was Summoning the Fire Demon when I feared for my home… the flames…"

It had all happened so fast, nothing had prepared him. None of the tomes had said that a rebuff could be so violent; maybe he should have expected that.

"I moved my Compass without thinking."

"And Summoned  _ me _ ," The Demon finished for him. His tone lilted again, like he wanted to laugh. "If you’d gone to the right," he sighed, faux-mournfully, "you’d have a nasty shock for your troubles… you poor thing."

Taeyong was almost afraid to ask but he  _ had _ to. "I’m terribly sorry, Lord -" He pointedly avoiding the ‘my,’ since beings often took that courtesy far too literally "- but what might I parlay in return for this meeting?"

The Demon’s laugh washed over his face, almost tender, and his thumb brushed Taeyong’s bottom lip. "A soul."

Taeyong’s heart stopped before breaking into a petrified sprint. 

Oh fuck.  _ Oh, fuck _ , he knew who he’d summoned instead of the Fire Demon. He’d -

"You’re the Demon of Light," He croaked, hearing himself as if from a great distance. There was no surviving this, he’d killed himself in the worst way, so ironically searching for a way to keep himself from further harm. He was beyond fucked, he was  _ doomed - _

"I am," Baekhyun agreed. 

Behind Taeyong’s lids, the oppressive blackness lifted slightly, enough to have him peeling his eyes open once more… to find the subtle glow illuminating Baekhyun’s face in the dark.

When Taeyong had met Ten, the Demon had poured from the pentagram like a spillage of ink working itself backwards through time, rising upwards to form a hand. One that had dragged upwards another… then a head of short, ink-black hair and a pair of shoulders until, finally, a naked Demon crawled onto Taeyong’s floor. He’d been filthy, coated in ash and his eyes shifting fluidly in his vaguely humanoid face. A Demon who’d only seen mortals in passing and barely understood exactly how to mimic one.

Baekhyun was different.

His skin was lit, literally, by a soft inner light that gave him a truly unearthly quality. It originated most strongly from the smooth, broad expanse of his chest, the curls of his hair only suggested where the light caught on the edges of the strands pushed back from his forehead. His nails, where those long fingers still held Taeyong so inescapably, were darker. His eyes were pure white, impossible to meet, and, coupled with the strange beauty of his form, forced Taeyong's weeping eyes shut once more.

Light was not  _ of _ the Other, after all. Baekhyun's light was fuelled by the souls he  _ consumed _ , what made him so radiant to the mortal gaze. Taeyong couldn't even imagine what he must look like in the Other, unrestrained by a form that was only borrowed.

"...You're going to eat my soul."

It wasn't a question. Baekhyun had crawled right out of the pentagram, unmoved by the runes scripted for Chanyeol. He was never swayed. Taeyong would never have  _ dreamed  _ -

But it had happened. Was happening. And there was no changing that.

Baekhyun's thumbs swept soothingly through the streams of Taeyong's tears, expression mild but his tone anticipatory. "I'm very hungry," He agreed.

Taeyong didn't want to lose his soul. He didn't want to be damned to nonexistence, erased from this world and -

"You're going to take it," He breathed. Shuddered when Baekhyun's naked form slunk between Taeyong's knees and pressed him to the floor. Because Taeyong couldn't stop him. Made him think of Ten's words that bargains were usually sealed sexually, if both parties were willing, and what a bittersweet sendoff this would be. Intimate with the most beautiful being he'd ever imagined… that would consume his soul.

"I'll have my meal either way," The Demon agreed, right up against Taeyong's cheek, "It's going to be you… or the next person I find."

Taeyong wasn't going to allow that. His arrogance, his mistake, his damnation. His punishment.

But Baekhyun was a Demon, one to be Summoned, and one to demand payment.  _ Payment. _

Did he dare?

Like anyone with nothing to lose, he did.

"If you take my soul," Taeyong breathed, bated, "Will you take it as our parlay?

Baekhyun paused, something that seemed impossible in itself. "A bargain, little mortal?"

"Alchemist," Taeyong corrected without thought.

Baekhyun flicked the bone piercing Taeyong's lobe. When he huffed, in actual amusement, Taeyong felt the motion pressed against his own chest. The Soul-Eater was so unexpectedly… cheerful. "So I see…  _ Alchemist _ . A deal? You think I have a reason to accept?"

Taeyong licked his lip and jerked when his tongue brushed against Baekhyun's as well, the contact zipping between them. Baekhyun's hands gripped him harder and Taeyong abruptly remembered what Baekhyun had said earlier. That he was  _ hungry _ .

He  _ needed _ Taeyong's soul.

"Have you ever eaten a willing offering?" Taeyong clenched his eyes shut. Prayed this worked. Bought him time. Taeyong had certainly never considered what giving something like a soul could do. "You're going to take it from me, but what if I gave it to you?" 

Baekhyun hummed. And didn't move.

Taeyong’s pulse pounded against the brace of those inhuman hands.

There was no going anywhere but forwards.

He always had been an experimentalist.

His breath was shaky in the dark. He forced his eyes to open one last time.

_ "I bid to Thee, Lord of Light -" _

Baekhyun's white eyes widened in genuine surprise.

" _ Mortal Blood _ ."

Taeyong bit his tongue, the tang of copper filling his mouth.

_ "Soul to Endure _ .

_ Parlay unto me, Alchemist -" _

Baekhyun's face was unbearable when he smiled, teeth like stars and mouth a void into nothingness.

" _ Bargain Struck _ ," He laughed and then kissed Taeyong like a man starved.

…………………………………………………………

Light drifted across the floor, pale and slowly gaining strength as dawn crept into morning, and illuminating the drifting motes of dust that filtered through the air.

The shop was utterly silent, save the tick of a distant clock hung behind the counter out front. Had been for hours, since the Demon had slunk back through the Pentagram, glowing brilliantly from his feast and leaving behind the slack form of his victim without a second glance.

Ten found him.

The Shadow Demon slunk through the floor, through what he called his own personal portal - the one, once upon a time, Taeyong had accidentally made permanent into the floor - and immediately found himself with his head sticking up through another layer. Granite, by the grain of it, and he slid sideways instead of interrupting whatever Taeyong had so rudely put over him. Really, his mad scientist rhetoric might've been entertaining but that was only when  _ Ten _ wasn't being inconvenienced by it -

He caught sight of a limp foot and shot upright, spooked.

"Yong -"

He paused before his hands could touch Taeyong's face. The Alchemist was utterly still, face pale and his lean body naked. One half of his hair was shocked pure white, matching the scatterings of bleached footprints laid into the floor… leading back… to the pentagram.

The granite was cracked, damaged to ruination, but Ten could clearly see the line of runework. The ashes. The Compass -

Baekhyun, Soul-Eater, had been here.

_ The Soul Eater had been here _ .

Ten scrambled back towards his friend, falling to his knees. His form rippled, shock and such  _ mortal _ grief tearing his control to pieces. The hands that grasped Taeyong's cold face were stained black, like they'd been dipped and smeared in ink, and slightly taloned. 

"Yong!" Ten barked, slapping that cheek lightly at first and then, a second time, sharper. "Taeyong!"

His vision warped, darkening as light polarised. Taeyong's body was dull. Vacant.

Soulless.

No. No, no, no -

Ten slapped him harder. "Tae _ yong -!" _

Taeyong gasped awake, eyes flaring wide and heaving breaths like a man dragged from a near-drowning. He gaped and floundered and Ten, struck, hooked a hand behind his head without even thinking about it. Pressed his other, still clawed and barely holding form, to that bare chest. Felt the pounding heart.

"How are you alive?" He demanded, nearly forced to tears. Demons didn't cry. But, then again, they didn't grieve either.

Taeyong cough and spluttered and stared at him in surprise that was somehow even greater than Ten's. "I made a bargain," He wheezed, "He took it."

Ten nearly shook him, furious. "He didn't fucking take it," He half-shouted. "He ate it! You're fucked!"

"We struck a deal," Taeyong insisted, his own hand finding Ten's and gripping it so tightly. His palms, Ten couldn't help but notice, were flawless. " _ Mortal Blood, Soul to Endure _ ."

Ten stared at him, the fall of bicoloured hair and one eye that looked paler than the other. Baekhyun's light had done this and to the floor. Taeyong had been curled in what must've once been the fetal position, the protected side untouched by the bleaching effect. 

This was mad. Utterly mad.

"You willingly gave it to him," He breathed in realisation. "But, Taeyong, you  _ lived." _

He had.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N- for Rinirise/Dandanie and me pfft adding to my BaekYong and TenMin agenda
> 
> thanks for reading, don't forget to subscribe and comment!
> 
> As always - Don't like? Don't read!


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